


Dust Particles

by weezr



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comforting Dean Winchester, Coping, Depression, Emo, Gen, Nice Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Short & Sweet, angsty, depressed reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weezr/pseuds/weezr
Summary: Dean Winchester texts you. gushy shit. idk does anyone read summaries





	Dust Particles

The bar was quiet. It was empty, other than you, your glass of wine, and the bartender.

The sun mindlessly filtered through the windows, migrating from the cold, windy outside, into the warm and comfortable atmosphere within doors. You should have been happy, but recent events played over in your head, incessantly rambling.

You took a sip. You didn’t even taste it- you just wanted something to fix your dry mouth. The bartender gave you a pity smile; you didn’t offer a reply.

Your phone buzzed: Dean.

You haven’t spoken to that Winchester in weeks- maybe even months. You furrowed your brows, reading the text.

The text stated that he was in the area, and wanted to see if you were perhaps free. You obliged to answer, saying you were free, and giving him the address of the bar you were seated comfortably in.

He replied in within minutes: “Okay. See u then.”

You felt numb, though. Maybe he’d cheer you up when he visited. At least, you hoped. You knew you had to stop relying on people, but, maybe today would be an exception.

Nothing bad had happened to make you feel this way, it was just… sporadic depression. The sun should have warmed you up, but instead, it felt as though it skipped over you, leaving you to be by your lonesome within the dust particles.

The door opened. Dean’s heavy foot steps suddenly echoed through the hollow room.

“Y/N! What’s up? I haven’t seen you in- God- how long has it been? How are you?” He rambled, a big smile plastered on his face. He sat next to you, causing the chair to sway.

You breathed out, “It’s been a few months. I’m.. okay, I guess. But what about you? You never text me!”

He laughed, “I thought I’d lost your number, asshole. Don’t pin this on me; you shoulda texted me!” He lost his smile, “But, Y/n, are you sure you’re okay? You seem kinda different.”

At that point, you lost it. You hadn’t had anyone ask you if you were okay in years. You thought people had forgotten about you. But, here in front of you, was a worried man.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Who’s kneecaps do I have to remove?” He asked, leaning forward.

You shook your head; you didn’t want to talk about it. He asked if he could hug you, and you said yes.

He engulfed you in his arms, the heavy scent of gun powder evident on his body. You sobbed into his shoulder, as he rubbed your back smoothly.

“Y/n, don’t hesitate to text me for help, okay?”


End file.
